Find A Way To Live
by CasperRM4
Summary: We met. You helped me carry coffee. We fell in love. We got married. You were in an accident, and left me to survive. The only problem is, I don't know how without you. Drabble-ish, and no one dies.


We met on September 6th. It was a Wednesday, and I had just gotten chewed out over the phone for forgetting to send my mother a birthday card, again. The scene was a bar on Beacon Street, during the end of the drinks-after-work rush. You walked in the door at 8:07, with a few of your buddies. You had already taken off the jacket that went with that day's suit, and started rolling up the sleeves of your white Oxford shirt and loosening the green tie that went with your eyes. I watched you walk up to the bar and order "a Jack Daniels, neat". You turned away to walk back to the booth your friends went to, when we made eye contact. I smiled, and you smirked back, and walked away.

The next time I saw you, it was at the Starbucks across the street from my office. It was Friday, two weeks later, and I dropped my raincoat trying to pick up the cup carrier while fielding a call from my boss. You picked it up for me and told me "I guess it's fate that we met again." I nodded shyly, and you offered to carry the coffees for me until I got off the phone. We walked to the crosswalk with her prattling on in my ear about all the things I had messed up today, and she finally hung up when I told her I was walking into the elevator. You laughed at the lie, and asked me why I was so excited to get off the phone. Boldly, I said, "I wanted to talk to you instead." We introduced ourselves, and you asked for my number. I gave it to you, standing on the sidewalk in front of my office building. You promised to call soon so we could go for drinks. Ten minutes after I left you outside, you called and asked me to dinner that night.

I learned on the first date that you were from Atlanta, and that your dad now lives in Huntsville, Alabama. I found out on our second date that you hated Chinese food, and that you had a Golden Retriever named Lady for eight years. The third date was to my associate editor's wedding, and you charmed all my co-workers with your stories of working with the MFA's donor program, and the prominent (and crazy) members of Boston society that donated. On our fourth date, you told me how you took a year off from working on your business degree at Columbia to go home and take care of your mom. She passed away that same year, breast cancer, but insisted you continue pursing your goals. We went to the charity gala at the Museum of Fine Arts that you helped plan for the fifth date. You were so handsome in your tux, and when you took me back to your apartment and played the baby grand piano in your living room, I knew I was done for. That was the first night we had sex, and it was perfect. We were basically inseparable after that.

You told me you loved me on a Saturday morning. It was November, and we had the first snowfall of the year the night before. You laughed at my child-like excitement when I insisted we go to the Common to see the snow on the trees. While we were bundling up, you got a funny look on your face. I asked if you were ok, and you replied, "I just wanted to tell you, I love you." I grabbed your scarf and pulled you straight back to bed. We didn't make it outside that day.

We got engaged in May, on my 25th birthday. We went to Martha's Vineyard and stayed at a bed and breakfast for the weekend, where you spoiled me with good food, good wine, and good company. You took me to the beach on Sunday morning so we could watch the sun rise. While it was coming up over the horizon, you got down on one knee and popped the question. I cried, and of course, said yes. I called my parents in Seattle; you called your dad in Alabama. My father insisted on us coming out for my little brother's graduation at the end of the month so he could meet you in person (of course you asked his permission first), and my mom worried about how fast it was. I reassured her that I had met your friends and your dad, had been to your house, and had checked to make sure you didn't keep dead ex-girlfriends in the basement. "I don't even have a basement," you chuckled. Your dad kept saying how he knew it was happening soon, and how your mother would have been so proud.

Instead of planning a huge wedding, we went to Vegas under the guise of a vacation. My mom was pissed, but I didn't want to make a huge mess out of it. We had a quiet ceremony at the Bellagio, and spent the rest of the week in bed and exploring the casinos and hotels. There was a reception in Seattle that my parents planned for my large family of cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. It was just you, your dad, and your aunt's family, so your dad flew up to Boston to spend a few days with us, then we all flew to Seattle together. The reception acted as a way to introduce you to my whole family, while also giving my parents an excuse to drag me back for a weekend. Thankfully, work brought us both back Sunday night, so we didn't spend very long away from home. I told my friends at work, and you told your fraternity brothers. That was August.

On our one-year anniversary, I took a pregnancy test on my lunch break. We were going to meet for dinner that night, but I told you I got stuck at work and would meet you at our apartment. Instead, I went to Babies R Us and bought a onesie that said, "My Daddy Loves Me". I drove home like a mad woman so I could tell you the good news and we could celebrate properly. When I got home, you weren't there. I started making dinner, thinking you were probably picking up flowers or something. The phone started ringing halfway through the spaghetti sauce.

"Hello, is this Mrs. Isabella Cullen?"

"Yes?"

"There's been an accident."

**Welcome. It's going to be an interesting ride. Do I know where I'm going with this? Not really. This isn't a serious work for me at all, and I am a college student, so updates might be scattered (if this even gets continued) and there will probably be mistakes. Two things: I believe in HEAs, and I don't like death. That's some reassurance right there. See you when I see you.**


End file.
